Revelations
by Usbib974
Summary: Sequel fic to 'Caretaker'. Sam reveals a truth.


**TITLE:** Revelations

 **RATING:** K+

 **SUMMARY:** Sequel fic to 'Caretaker'. Sam reveals a truth.

 **WORDS:** 1447

 **NOTES:** This is kind of a sequel to 'Caretaker'. You don't really need to read that to understand this. Just know that Sam had a fever and he hallucinated. This is the fic I asked my friend to give me her preferences for. I don't think I delivered because first off, it's _way_ later than I wanted it to be, I didn't really envision it going this way when I first read said preferences and I couldn't include any sneezes because I'm apparently incapable of writing fluff without also somehow including some hurt in it. I apologize. Enjoy!

* * *

"This is getting real old, Sammy," Dean complained. "You gotta stop getting sick."

"I didn't do it on purpose, Dean," Sam protested, voice thick and muffled both because he was swaddled in blankets and because he had the mother of all colds.

Dean snorted and didn't say anything, going back to the book he was reading, because _I do read, Sam, no matter how hard you find that to believe._ And if he'd read the same paragraph eighteen times without taking in even the first word, well, that was his problem and no one else's.

In his defense, Dean blamed Sam. It was his fault Dean couldn't concentrate on anything he tried to do. Sam being sick had always had that affect on Dean, no matter how hard Dean had tried to deny it. Now he just went through it with a resigned attitude, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it, no matter how ridiculous he thought that might be.

So, here he was, worrying over a stupid sore throat of all things. Okay, so maybe it wasn't _just_ a sore throat; Sam also did have a stubborn fever that refused to budge from its initial 100°F but it wasn't nearly as dangerous as the injuries Sam got on a hunt.

Dean threw Sam another glance before he sighed and gave up on reading anything for a while. Instead, he got out his journal, the questions concerning Sam's well-being coming automatically on the way, and started writing up their latest hunt. It was usually Sam's job, since he enjoyed the writing – he said it reminded him of writing reports from his college days, the nerd – but he obviously couldn't do it himself in his condition and Dean wasn't half-bad, even if he did say so himself.

* * *

When Dean next looked at the clock, an hour and a half had already passed. Eyebrows rising slightly in surprise, he checked on Sam only to find him watching Dean with glazed and fevered – but aware – eyes.

"How you holdin' up, dude?" Dean asked softly, placing his palm on his brother's head and frowned to find his forehead to be as hot as before. Nothing dangerous, but not an improvement.

"I was alone."

"What?" Dean frowned.

Sam swallowed. "Back... back at Stanford," Dean stiffened. Sam didn't speak much about that time, for understandable reasons and Dean didn't push. Sam would share when he was ready. All Dean did was nudge every once in a while, reminding Sam through actions that Jess's memory didn't necessarily need to be a painful one by asking him questions like how they met or what had been the most embarrassing thing he had done in her presence, always being rewarded with a shy smile.

Always ignoring the pang of loss at not having met Jess's Sam.

"Yeah?" Dean encouraged gently as Sam seemed to have lost the nerve to complete what he started, sitting on the bed by Sam.

"Before Jess." Sam took a deep breath. "I fell sick. And... there wasn't anyone there, Dean." Sam's voice came out hoarse and raw and Dean was highly unsurprised to see tears shining in Sam's eyes. "I was alone and it... sucked. It was... lonely." Sam shuddered and Dean doubted it was from the fever. "I... missed you," he admitted, not meeting Dean's eyes. "So-"

Dean knew what Sam was gonna say next. He was going to thank Dean for looking after him and aside from the fact that Dean feared he would throw up if he heard that, it was something he didn't need to hear. Something he hadn't ever wanted to hear.

"You done, Sammy?" Dean interjected not unkindly. Sam looked apprehensive and Dean had never meant to put that look on his brother's face.

"I... Dean, I'm-"

"Shut up," Dean cut his brother off gently. Sam fell silent as though his voice box had been turned off and then put on his best _eyes_ , silently telling his brother to not call him out on it and, man, those eyes were even more powerful when their owner was sick. Dean was screwed.

"I know what you were gonna say," he cast an appraising look at his brother's weak, tense body, at his unhappy, apprehensive expression and broke into a small, sincere smile. "Sam... you know I don't need to hear it, right?"

Clearly Sam didn't, if his confused and miserable expression was anything to go by.

They were light years away from what they used to be if Sam didn't know _this._

"Dude," Dean felt kinda offended, which was making a ridiculous situation even worse. " _I know._ I raised, you. I know all you inner-girly feelings." That did the trick. Sam shot him a frown before turning his head to hide the small smile that formed. Unfortunately for Sam, Dean knew him a lot more than he let on.

"So," Sam's head rolled again to face him, relaxed and tired. "You mind giving me a heads up next time you start hallucinating Jess again, Sammy?" Dean asked, only half-mocking. The last time had been scary and Dean had no wish to repeat it. Ever.

At the mention of the hallucination, Sam had tensed minutely. It was obviously a painful memory but Dean was not sorry. He needed to know if Sam was going to have another episode – God, it made him cringe internally to say that word – and he couldn't really afford to be subtle. Not if he wanted to keep his sanity.

Sam mumbled something that Dean didn't quite catch. He heard the tone which answered his previous question with an affirmative but there was an attachment to that answer that he saw being muttered but did not hear.

"What?"

Sam repeated himself at a barely louder volume. "It wasn't only Jess that I hallucinated, Dean." His head had rolled away from Dean and Sam showed no indication that that was going to change any time soon. The surprise was just registering when Sam continued. "I... you were there, too, Dean." And Sam refused to say anything beyond that, a stubborn set to his jaw, though that didn't really matter as Dean was too shocked to string together two words, let alone gather his wits enough to formulate and then ask a question. His chest felt tight and weird and his throat was closed up and burning.

Dean shook it off best he could and stuffed the things he couldn't ignore into a box in his head, to be examined later in privacy and a hopefully more stable state of mind. He thought it best to not say anything to that, busying himself in arranging things on Sam's bedside table in an effort to give Sam time to get his composure back and, if he was honest, to buy _himself_ a few much-needed minutes.

Midway through rearranging everything for the tenth time, Dean ruffled a hand through Sam's soft, dark hair, tacitly relaying that he understood.

Sam went lax and chanced a look at Dean to see him smiling tenderly. A small hopeful smile bloomed on Sam's face.

"You okay?" Dean asked, affection and concern coloring his voice.

Sam's smile blossomed into the version Dean was used to seeing, all dimples and shining eyes. "I'm good," he affirmed. "Dean?" Sam's voice was tentative.

"Yeah?"

"Read to me?"

Dean's eyes softened as he looked at his little brother, seeing the request for what it was: a way back to the old days.

"'Course."

 **END**

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 **Author's note:** I hope you liked it. I'm totally willing to do a Sam version, if you guys want it, just leave your request in a review or a PM.


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